


Painted in Gold

by MuddyBlood



Category: Sleeping Beauty - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, F/F, Self Harm, gore tw, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddyBlood/pseuds/MuddyBlood
Summary: Malora (or things that can be read as such) one shot collection.





	Painted in Gold

Very few things change a person the same as being a prisoner in one’s own body. As if frozen in time, consciousness beating against its cage of flesh. Briar Rose was certainly no stranger to this, dreams conjured out of the desperation for freedom. Her mind was filled with images of places she had never seen, picturesque imagery taunting her even as she wandered some tropical paradise, or a snow capped mountain. But even worse were the nightmares, cold voices and green lights plaguing her, unable to react so much as a twitch even as terror filled her again and again. Time had lost meaning long ago, and if asked Rose would say it had either been a few days or a year, the neverending dreams twisting her perception. For even as alert as she was, she was still dreaming, unable to do anything but watch lifetimes flit past her eyes. Occasionally she would become aware of something outside of her own head, whether it be the cawing of a raven or a rustle of cloth as Rose’s captor checked up on her, but was soon to be lost again to convoluted fantasies.  
The only reason Rose could tell she was actually awake this time is that everyone, even her aunts, called her Aurora, something they had never done before. The world was a rush of color and sound, and Rose could merely stumble along, dragged behind her apparent true love. Even a touch as gentle as his had all of the Princess’s attention, having not felt anything like outside of her head for far too long. The typically happy girl had been reduced to silence, mouth dry and lips cracked with disuse, eyes staring into some distant corner. The blabberings and platitudes of her aunts filled the air, as hushed as they tried to be in an evil faerie like Maleficent’s lair. The sounds would have drowned out Aurora even if she had wanted to speak, and no one noticed how she had not said a word since she was awoken. No one noticed the Faerie who’s lair this was watching them either, raven perched on her shoulder, aside from the vacant girl, allowing her eyes to focus for the first time, seeing the face of she who doomed the Princess for the first time, committing every feature to memory. Rose remained silent even as she was pulled away by the arm, her companions none the wiser of their silent watcher, and remained so even when returned to the safety of the castle.  
Rose had been gifted by her aunts, for sure, but despite those talents she was not particularly gifted when it came to art. So everytime she drew it turned out messy, rushed, and was quickly turned into a crumpled ball and thrown over her shoulder. It had become an obsession of hers, attempting to capture the image of the evil faerie who cursed her, features frozen in her mind’s eye. The pile of papers behind her grew, and still no one disturbed her.  
Philip was even now, after all this, still rather kind. All gentle touches and soft smiles, a perfect gentleman, but even he began to grow irritated when Rose stubbornly would not speak. For all his gentle coaxing and even some rougher commands, the Princess would merely watch him, blue eyes eerily fixed on his own brown ones. Other than visits from those close to her, Rose was mainly left alone, in the room strewn with wadded up paper and a torn up bed. Rose refused to sleep in a bed at all, and only slept when exhaustion made her hands shake beyond use, bags under her eyes growing every day. For even when she did sleep, it was restless, and she was quick to awake. Every time Rose woke, she pinched herself hard, just in case, before relaxing with the knowledge that she most certainly was awake. Soon though, even Rose’s hardest pinches hardly stung, and the anxiety clawed its way back into her, fear that she was still asleep bringing her to desperate measures. What was once a reassurance inevitably grew into more though, and Rose became enamored with the sight of her own blood, drops of ruby sliding over stinging skin, cuts made by her own hand, a knife carelessly forgotten after a dinner in her room was taken away by the servants that tended to her. Drops of red even stained her drawings now, hidden in the folds of paper as another work of the same face, the same pose, was discarded. The paper more than covered the floor by now, spread by careless footsteps, crushed underfoot without a second thought. After all, it was all the same, only a little better each time. Her visitors had given up on her by now, between the steadfast refusal to communicate and eyes that could only focus on the drawing under her hand. Of course they were all worried about what was happening to her, but they only saw what they wanted, never the thin white scars in neat lines up her wrists, or how her drawings were all of the same person. Rose had accepted that they never would.  
It was about time for a change, Rose supposed, so she didn’t mind that this was what came of it. She had gotten careless, let the servants find her bloodstained knife, causing quite an upstir. Some called her mad once the word got out, the Princess drawing her own blood, the others giving unwanted pity, touching her arms or hands gently even when she flinched away. She was confined to a smaller room, strictly monitored, entertained only by watching the clouds pass out her window. Her arms had been chained to the walls within days of being sent here, after scratching at herself with reckless abandon, messy scars now overlapping her previous neat ones, marks from where her nails dug in. And she still did not speak, not even to complain, merely watching the clouds go by, slowly passing her small window. If one were to listen closely, when the Princess did not know they were there, they may have heard the softest humming, the same tune again and again, until her throat was parched and almost bleeding. The first visitor she got other than her aunts and Philip was a curious one, a small blue bird perched on her windowsill. Drawn by the humming, the little bird hopped closer, just beyond her feet, and tried whistling the tune back to her. Rose smiled for the first time in ages, humming back to the little bird.  
Back and forth they sung in their own ways, sweet whistling and quiet humming mixing together. The little bird hopped closer each time, gaining confidence with each copy. With her limited use of her arms Rose was hardly able to reach for it, but did as well as she could, lips cracking as they slid into an unfamiliar shape, a wide grin. The little bird watched her expectantly, having finished it’s copy, waiting for Rose to take her turn. Rose hesitated, pondering, before clenching her fist, cringing at the feel of small bones breaking in her hand. Her discomfort was quickly replaced with relief, however, when a single drop of blood rolled out, from where a bone had broken the skin of the bird.  
The first person to see the carnage was the gentle Fauna, who fainted dead away at the sight in front of her. A raven had flown in as well, maybe drawn to the blood as was Rose, or maybe the remains of slow humming now echoing around the small room. In any case, it cawed with laughter when Flora approached her unconcious sister, before turning to look at the cause. Spanning rather magnificently across one whole wall, the visage of Rose’s tormentor was painted in blood, a familiar face now staining the bland wallpaper red, with an occasional blue feather mixed in. Rose’s shackles lay empty, and the only remaining creature in the room was the raven, which even as she looked upon it took flight, cawing all the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my tumblr- @EmberHound. Suggestions/ requests welcome, kudos/ comments appreciated!


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